


The Way You Bite

by Mntsnflrs



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AU, AU: no nen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cats, Death, I'm back with more AUs no one asked for, M/M, Violence, hisoka is the same terrible person as always, illumi is unamused, side pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-12-03 15:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mntsnflrs/pseuds/Mntsnflrs
Summary: The true power lies not with the throne, but with those who stand behind it. The ear of the crown holds more value than the heart. Luckily, hearts rarely come into play when the pieces on the chess board start to move.





	1. Innominate

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with more shit no one asked for! Woo, go me!  
> Alternate summary: Hisoka keeps himself warm by the toasty fire of the world burning.
> 
> Chapter's song: Pools by Glass Animals
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! xo

A fat ginger cat had knocked over his Philodendron, and there was soil on the wooden floors in a wide arc that swept from the broken pot. There in the centre, like a king on a throne, lounged the smug looking cat. Its tail flickered as Hisoka approached, but it otherwise didn’t move.

He’d loved that plant.

When Hisoka decided that staring the cat into guilt wasn't working, he went to pick it up. In some kind of protest, it lay there, uncooperative but apparently too lazy to put up any fight other than a disgruntled mewl. The tag on the collar christened the fat cat Gingerbread, and the address was Hisoka’s neighbouring apartment. The recently occupied apartment that was so silent that he had wondered if anyone was actually living there.

Hisoka was familiar enough with the other tenants of the building, such as Mrs Pilowski, who had custody of her kids on the weekends. John, who sold hard drugs sometimes. Amy, who got angry whenever questions were asked, but loved to gossip. Louis, who liked to let people know that he went to the gym. He hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet the newest addition to the building, but it seemed that fate had come calling in the form of an overfed feline.

Hisoka carried the fat, squirming cat, and knocked on the door.

The man that opened it wasn’t what he had expected. For one, there wasn’t anything obviously wrong with him. Secondly, he just held out his arms, as if he had expected to be handed his fat cat. He was also gorgeous.

“Thank you.” He said, with a quiet, distinct voice. The cat nestled into his thin arms like it hadn’t just ruined Hisoka’s favourite plant and then squashed soil into his floor.

“That’s quite a cat.” Hisoka said.

“Yes.” The man said, and shut the door firmly in Hisoka’s face.

He stared at the door for a few moments. When it became clear that he really had just been left in the hall without so much as a polite introduction, he went back to his own apartment to clean up the murder scene of his Philodendron.

-

“Have you met the new tenant?” John asked as he rolled a cigarette. Hisoka didn’t know what was in there, but it certainly wasn’t tobacco.

“Briefly.” He replied, fiddling with his pencil. He didn’t know what to draw, or where to start.

“I heard he killed a man, and left the body in one of the dumpsters outside.” John said, which paused Hisoka’s fiddling.

“And where did you hear that?”

John snorted. “Amy, of course. Where else?”

Where else indeed. The new neighbour didn’t seem like the murderous kind, but then Hisoka had been wrong about these things before. He drew one big, black eye, and then the fall of straight dark hair. Thin, arched brows, a straight nose. A small, lax mouth.

John peered over his shoulder and squinted at the paper. “Yeah, that’s him. Weird looking isn’t he?”

“In a good way.” Hisoka said, staring at the page. There was something missing, but he hadn’t had long enough to look properly.

“Yeah, a good way.” John agreed. “You gonna ink that on someone? Just a random guy’s face?” he asked, gesturing at the drawing. “I mean it’s good, but would someone pay for it?”

“People pay for anything that they’re not sure they should have.” Hisoka said. “But no, this is just a sketch.”

“You trying to find your mojo?”

His lips twitched. “Something like that.”

-

The fat cat was back, but this time sat in a pile of feathers. Hisoka’s pillow was the latest victim, and the criminal was unrepentant.

It purred when Hisoka hauled it up, but looked happier still when it was once again handed to its owner. Ah, so that’s what Hisoka had missed. The shadow of writing on the side of his neck, and the ball of a vertical labret through the soft looking bottom lip.

“What’s your name?” Hisoka asked, passing over the cat.

“Illumi.” The man replied, shutting the door on Hisoka once more.

-

“We’re going to war again.” Machi told Hisoka, sat on the chair meant for customers as Hisoka disinfected his hands and put on latex gloves. He had time to touch up the ace of spades on the inside of his wrist, in black and maroon ink.   

“Oh? Any particular, exiting reason?” he asked, only half concentrating.

“Chrollo is back.” And that made him pause.

His eyes slid up to meet Machi’s own gaze, his attention recaptured. “That doesn’t answer my question; it just leaves me with more.”

She shrugged delicately, lifting her shirt just enough to graze the holster around her waist. Hisoka tried not to let his eyes linger.

“I can’t explain anything more. After all, your loyalty doesn’t lie with us.” Machi said.

Hisoka couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “Sweetheart, what does loyalty buy you? Does it keep you in clothes; does it put food in your stomach? Does it keep bullets in that gun you’re doing a terrible job of hiding? Or does it lead you into battles that aren’t your own, for causes that aren’t your own?”

“It leads you where you choose.” She said, grimmer now. “Chrollo will visit soon, for a tattoo and outside business.”

“I look forward to seeing him.” Hisoka murmured, staring down at the tattoo of the ace on his wrist.

-

Nameless men met him in shadowed alleys and passed him hushed whispers in exchange for safety, for a petty redemption he knew full well he could never give. He received answers to the questions people had yet to ask, and asked questions that were yet to have an answer.

When he went back to his building, he could see the light shining from Illumi’s apartment window. If it had the same layout as Hisoka’s, it was the bedroom. He waited a few minutes to see if Illumi would look out, but he didn’t.

Hisoka drifted into sleep with his secrets and questions and answers, and his fingers twitching with the need to trace lines across that pale skin on the other side of the hall.

-

“I slept with the new tenant last night.” Amy said to John as they lounged on her couch. Hisoka couldn’t remember why he’d accepted the invitation to join them.

“Fuck off, no you didn’t.” John snorted. “Why you gotta bullshit all the time Amy?”

“I did!” she insisted. Hisoka could feel her looking at him, but he was reading his emails on his phone. “It was amazing. He’s so sensual, you know? Those long legs and toned arms. And that _hair.”_

“Yeah? Prove it.” John said. 

“I looked out of his bedroom window and saw Hisoka coming in at half past two. Isn’t that right, Hisoka?”

The lies had been amusing for a while, but Amy needed to find someone new to tease. Even John wasn’t stupid enough for it to keep on working.

“If you were at the window, I certainly didn’t see you.” He said. “But you have the apartment under his, so you could have easily seen me from your own window.”

John smiled triumphantly, but Amy looked annoyed. “You never take my side anymore.” She said, pouting.

“I get bored of sticking to the same side.” He said, easing the blow with a wink. “You’ve always known that.”

-

“What do you do, Illumi?” Hisoka asked as he handed over the cat for the third time. He knew now that it was climbing on the drains and in through his window, but if he left it closed, what excuse would he have to see his neighbour?

“I am a Contractor, of sorts.” Illumi said, dragging a slim finger down the nose of the cat. It looked up at him with adoring eyes.

So was Hisoka, _of sorts_. He liked that ambiguous ending, and the heavy weight of Illumi’s black hole gaze.

“Anything interesting?”

“Not really.”

“So you haven’t killed anyone and left the body in the dumpster?”

Illumi didn’t blink. “Not since I moved into this building, no.”

When he closed the door, Hisoka was smiling again.

-

People argued outside of his shop. It was a frequent occurrence, and as both of his businesses insisted upon a degree of certainty, he couldn’t blame people for lingering outside of the doors and attempting to persuade or dissuade each other.

“We need to stop at Mac’s before we go inside. Hisoka doesn’t like guns in his shop man, I’m telling you. You need to be the right person, and we are _not_  that.”

The reply was quiet and cocky. “Yeah, whats he gonna do? Everyone is scared of the guy, but I don’t get it. He’s creepy, but what else? Besides, I’m not planning on using it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going in with you unless you get rid of the gun first.”

“I don’t get you, Harry. It’s not like he could kill us- it’s broad daylight, and we have protection! And he’s not affiliated with any of the gangs, so we won’t have to answer to anyone on the off chance that something does happen.”

“Some things are worse than death. You ever heard of Togari? He was an officer with a grudge against Hisoka.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Exactly. Two years ago he was on the path to becoming chief. And then nothing. Not from him, his family, or the cops. You don’t fuck with Hisoka.”

Out of all of the arguments he had heard over the years, that one was probably the most reasonable.

_You don’t fuck with Hisoka._

-

When someone knocked on his door, he was hoping it would be Illumi. Earlier that day, he’d found Gingerbread on his kitchen counter, and had yet to return her.

Instead, it was two children, one with a suspicious gaze, and the other with an angry pout.

“Give me my cat back.” The tallest one said, his voice as petulant as his face. His white hair was a static cloud, and it looked utterly ridiculous. And yet the authority with which he spoke was certainly something interesting.

“That’s not very polite.” Hisoka said, leaning against the doorjamb. The smaller one with the fringe hadn’t lifted his eyes further than Hisoka’s knees, which was kind of cute. Shy. How sweet.

“Stealing a cat isn’t polite either.” The white haired boy snapped, his cheeks turning pink in the face of Hisoka’s idle attitude.

“I don’t have your cat.” Hisoka said, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.

“You do.” The boy insisted. “She’s big and ginger. I know you have her.”

Hisoka smiled again, endlessly amused by children and their black and white ideals. He liked to stamp those ideals beneath his feet and watch their little world crumble. Bonus if they cried. He bent down, putting his hands on his knees so that he was eye level with the boy. “Listen, I don’t have your cat, okay? Why don’t you run along and... Oh, I don’t know. What do kids do these days? Algebra?”

The smaller finally spoke, though it was still aimed at Hisoka’s knees. “It’s Killu-ni’s cat, Illu-ni just keeps her safe. Please can we have her?”

Hisoka pursed his lips. “What’s my prize?”

“You’re meant to be an adult!” the elder shouted. Completely different to his elder brother. What would it take to make Illumi shout?

“I am an adult.” Hisoka replied. “So I make the rules. What do I get in exchange for the cat?”

He looked up when a shadow fell over the kids, and found his prize stood there with that lovely flat expression. Illumi’s hair was tied into a high tail, and Hisoka could see that it was buzzed short on the sides. He hadn’t known that when it was down and in a middle parting. Little details and all.

“May we have the cat?” Illumi asked.

Hisoka’s smile grew. “I still need something in exchange.’’

The poor little cloud-haired boy looked ready to scream or combust. The smaller one drifted closer to Illumi, who looked to be considering Hisoka’s words carefully.

“What is it you want?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” He found himself saying.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

Hisoka moved back, hand on the door. “Then I guess I’m keeping the cat.”

Illumi’s quick hand stopped the door from closing fully, and Hisoka offered no resistance when it was pushed back open. Illumi had a tiny silver ring on the little finger of his left hand, a fire opal in the middle. There was something written in script down the side of his index finger, but Hisoka didn’t have time to make it out before Illumi’s curiously beautiful face was clouding his sight.

“Give me the cat, and you may take me to dinner.”

The smaller child made a noise of protest somewhere behind Illumi, but Hisoka didn’t bother looking, as the details of Illumi were far too numerous and engaging for him to look anywhere else. Thin lips, but sensuously shaped. Small ears, pierced twice in the lobes on both sides. Tattoos that Hisoka could only glimpse at before they were again out of sight. Eyes so dark that they looked almost all pupil. Calluses and scars that spoke of something other than… contracting. Spoke of danger. Illumi was a liar, and as Hisoka had just seen, he was also fast. It was an intoxicating mixture of mystery and threat, and Hisoka was well known for his love of all things wrong.

“Friday?”

“Friday.” Illumi confirmed. He didn’t speak again until Hisoka had passed the cat over, stroking one finger over the flickering ear. He looked to Hisoka again. “Thank you. I hope this game of yours is worth the outcome. I’m not sure it will be.”

Oh, but Hisoka doubted that.

-

“You fixate on things far too easily.” Machi complained on Thursday evening. They didn’t often go for drinks, as Machi worried about what she would let slip if she became intoxicated. Hisoka didn’t blame her.

“I do not.” He protested mildly.

It was a lie, but weren’t most of the things he said?

 


	2. Disquiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very caught up in the Dream Daddy dating game. SO GODDAMN PURE.  
> Anyway, here is chapter two! Hope you all enjoy xo
> 
> Song: Diamond Heart by Lady Gaga

“You have nice hands.” Hisoka began. The restaurant he had chosen was dimly lit and intimate, and anyone else with Illumi’s long hair and subtle features would have blended right into the wallpaper, but he couldn’t. To slender, too sharp, too _much_. Hisoka liked Illumi’s hands, but in truth he was much too busy focusing on other areas to pay them the attention they deserved.

“Thank you. You have a disturbing smile, but I find it quite pleasant.” Illumi replied.

Hisoka cocked his head and lowered the menu. He was considering the steak. Something bloody. “Disturbing? I wonder why.

“I think you know exactly why, and you enjoy the reactions of those unused to scare tactics.”

Hisoka’s answering smile was wide and intentionally painful. He watched Illumi’s eyes drop to his mouth and linger there, and felt his pulse thrum on the inside of his thigh, and higher. “Heavens know why you think I would want to scare anyone. Are you ready to order? I’m going to have the steak.”

Illumi placed his menu on the table and tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear. The soft light fell against his profile, and he looked like an angel ready to be immortalised in oil paints and across a thousand canvases. Hisoka wanted to pull down the collar of his forest green shirt and bite across the expanse of skin.

“I’ll be having the lamb.”

“And to drink?”

“The house red.”

Hisoka signalled for the waiter and they repeated their orders. Illumi’s wine arrived moments later, and Hisoka’s cranberry juice quickly followed. Illumi looked at the tall glass with a slightly raised brow, his expression mild preoccupation.

“May I ask why?”

Hisoka grinned over the glass before he took a sip. “I have business later this evening. Better than I stay sober.”

Illumi nodded, his expression carefully blank as he folded his hands on the table. “Well, here we are, in exchange for the cat. What is it you want now?”

“To know more about you. Is that so bad?”

“Yes, and I find myself disinclined to share.”

Hisoka took another sip of his drink. It was sweet, but not too sugary. Tart. He wanted to know what the writing on the side of Illumi’s neck said, but it was in a language he didn’t recognise. “Let’s start somewhere small. Have you fucked Amy?”

Illumi didn’t reply for a moment, and if it weren’t for his consistently dead stare, Hisoka would have thought he’d managed to garner some surprise out of the other man. He found himself quite invested in the answer to the question at hand, too.

“Why? Are you interested in her?”

What a funny question. “Not in the slightest. Amy became boring well before you arrived, Illumi.”

There was a heavy pause, in which Illumi stared at Hisoka without blinking. “Then it is me that you are interested in.”

“Am I so obvious?”

Waiters came with their meals, and it was another wait as they both began eating before Illumi was to reply. “You haven’t been subtle. I think you could have been, if you were interested in trying. But apparently not.”

He had made the correct choice; the steak was delicious. Rare and pink in the middle, and so soft that Hisoka’s knife cut through the meat like it was butter. Illumi was a dainty eater, and he picked up only small pieces of meat and vegetable as he ate slowly and methodically, like he was investigating each mouthful. Everything about him was strange.

“So have you been in the city long?” Hisoka asked.

Illumi finished chewing before he replied. “A matter of months.”

“Where were you before?”

“Out of the country.”

“Why?” Getting answers was like pulling teeth.

“My family’s business was operating in other countries, and they have only just relocated. I came first.”

“To test the waters?” Hisoka prompted.

“I suppose so.”

“What is your family business called? Maybe I’ve heard of it.”

“You haven’t.”

Subtle, as Illumi hadn’t been forthcoming with any of his answers, but Hisoka had definitely hit a wall. _Lovely_. “Perhaps I have. The name?”

Illumi’s answering smile was thin and unamused. “Tell me why I interest you.”

“Because you don’t like answering my questions.”

Illumi took another bite of his lamb, and a little blood pooled on his lower lip before his tongue came out to swipe it away. “Then I suppose you will remain interested in me for quite some time.”

-

He didn’t get to see more than a glace of Illumi for a number of days after that. It was no matter; there were plenty of people just interesting enough to keep Hisoka amused for the few hours it took to find a satisfying release.

And the glares from his neighbours, the static silence from Illumi as they passed in the hall… both were terribly amusing. ‘ _Keep it down next time_ ,’ John complained.

But the louder he made them shout, the stormier Illumi looked.

-

 

“I still don’t get it. Don’t fuck with Hisoka? You can’t just say that and expect me to know what’s going on.”

“He’s a killer, dude. Just stay away.”

“So? Half of the people in this city have killed someone in their lives. Hell, we’re surrounded by gangs.”

“There are too many rumours and too many witnesses for the shit about Hisoka to be false. Look man, I’m just trying to help. If you want to get yourself murdered, that’s your choice, just don’t haunt me afterwards.”

Scoffing. “Come on then, give it your best shot. What’s the worst thing he’s done?”

“Too many to choose. He sells everyone out. And he once beat a man to death using a laptop.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Stupid son of a bitch went into Hisoka’s shop and tried to rob him. Must have caught him on a bad day, ‘cos the guy didn’t make it back out alive. People who saw it said that the guy looked like grape that had been stood on. You know, like all pulpy and kind of--”

“Fuck alright I get it! Ew. Why the laptop though?”

“It’s Hisoka. Why don’t you go in there and ask him?”

“Maybe you’re right. I can get ink somewhere else.”

A wise decision.

-

 

“Does Nobunaga still hate me?” He asked Machi, passing her a spoon. She didn’t take her eyes off the ice cream, so he held onto it a little longer, taking tiny spoonfuls and relishing the bits of cherry.

“They all hate you.” Machi said distractedly. “I do too, you know that.”

“And you’re in my apartment, eating my ice cream, watching my alien documentaries?”

“Well I’m not eating your ice cream because you’re not sharing!” She snapped.

There was a crash from Hisoka’s bedroom; half welcome and half exasperating. Gingerbread was back. He passed Machi the half empty tub and went to collect the cat, which had this time victimised his bedside lamp. How rude.

When he carried it into the living space, Machi stared with something close to horror, the spoon half to her mouth.

“That is the fattest cat I have ever seen.”

Hisoka covered the cat’s ears and frowned. “Don’t say that, you don’t know how she feels about her body!”

There was a knock on the door. Illumi stood behind it, his expression as reticent as usual, but the purple smudges under his eyes speaking of exhaustion.

“My cat, please.”

Hisoka handed over Gingerbread. “You look tired. Work keeping you up?”

“Yes. Along with your obnoxious fucking.”

“Jealous?”

“I’m jealous of everyone that can get into their bed at night and not hear a man screaming about his prostate.”

Hisoka could hear Machi struggling not to inhale her spoon, but he just smiled at Illumi, showing lots of teeth. “That sounds like jealousy.”

Illumi rolled his eyes slightly. Those pretty, dead eyes. “Thank you as always for the cat. Please, just choke your partners, or gag them. I don’t care. Just shut them up.”

Hisoka dragged his eyes over Illumi’s body, lingering on the slim hips. “Illumi, why do you have a bolo knife strapped to your belt?”

“Gardening.”

“They must have been big weeds.” He looked at the blade. “Bloody too. Strange, I’ve never known plants to bleed.”

Illumi kissed the top of the cat’s head. “A rare variety. Thank you again, Hisoka.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

He closed the door softly and returned to the couch, where Machi was staring.

“Who was that?”

“My neighbour.”

“The new fixation, then?”

Hisoka dug his spoon into the ice cream and turned up the volume on the TV. They were missing the conspiracy theories. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

-

 

“Man, you know what’s scariest about Hisoka?”

“He’s a fucking freak show, everything about him is scary.”

“Well yeah, but that isn’t what I meant. Have you ever spoken to him?”

“No, thank god. Why?”

“He’s nice. Polite, well spoken, and warm. Right up until he disembowels you, still smiling. It’s like a hair-trigger, man, and you never know when he’s gonna turn it up. You could be getting a tattoo and say the wrong thing, and the next thing you know the needle gun is in your eye socket. You never know when you’ve crossed the line, because Hisoka doesn’t have a boundary to cross. He just likes to mess people up.”

-

 

Chrollo was always one polite enough to text before he arrived at Hisoka’s shop, so he had just enough time to compose himself before Chrollo’s quiet arrival.

“Hello, Hisoka.”

Hisoka grinned. The months had done nothing to Chrollo, and he looked as good as ever. Though glasses were new. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Chrollo. A balm to the soul.”

“You have a soul?”

Hisoka shrugged. “Maybe. Blackened and shrivelled, but there’s probably something in there.”

Chrollo’s answering smile was slow and blooming. “It’s good to see you, Hisoka. You look well.”

“I always look well.” Hisoka replied, because it was true. He’d re-dyed his hair the night before, and it was a bright maroon again. Blue had been his first choice, but he didn’t like the prospect of waiting weeks while the pink faded, so he’d gone with red. As it turned out, he liked it even more than the blue.

Chrollo chuckled. “And so modest. How could I forget?” He made himself comfortable, shucking off the long coat and setting it on Hisoka’s desk before sitting on the worn leather couch in the front part of the room that was considered the waiting area.

Hisoka rolled his shoulders. “What’ll it be?”

“We’re recruiting, so I’ll be bringing in some people soon.”

“And you want me to give them their spiders?”

“Who else?”

Of course. Who else indeed. “Will the spiders need numbers?”

“No.”

Hisoka’s smile turned into something closer to a grimace. “You want me to waste my time and money on your cannon fodder?”

“You will be paid handsomely for the effort. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Sure. But don’t bring Shizuku, she broke one of the tattoo guns last time.”

Chrollo nodded. “Alright. Do you have anything else for me?”

And again, Hisoka found himself bargaining. “It depends on what you have for me.”

Chrollo pursed his lips, considering. “War is coming, though I’m sure you knew that already. Factions are becoming volatile, and that means that leaders are becoming insecure. I need to know who is involved.” He rubbed one eye behind the glasses lens. “I’ll transfer you the money later today. I have to go to the bank anyway.”

Hisoka tapped his pen against his lips and sifted through the debris of his brain. “Meruem has recalled his generals. Someone has upped their distribution of hard drugs, but I’m not sure who. The Hunters are in turmoil trying to calm everything. But I think Meruem is your main issue.” Should he have mentioned the last Kurta, wandering around lost and full of self-consuming fury? Probably. But that would have been boring. Still, Chrollo was one of his favourites, so Hisoka couldn’t bring himself to leave him too dry. “Of course, I’ve warned Meruem that you’ll be his main competitor. You might want to recruit a little faster, as he’s known for weeks.”

“Talking with Meruem’s herd now? My, you have been busy.”

“We can’t all leave without a trace, listening to Bruce Springsteen and brooding for months on end.”

Chrollo shook his head, smiling a little. “You’re as fickle as the wind, Hisoka.”

He laughed, low in his throat. Excited. “What’s an information broker to do? Take sides? I wouldn’t have a very successful business in that case.”

Things were going to become _so much fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Chrollo and know he's dangerous af but at the same time I feel the need to gently bully him xo


	3. Avaricious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chap: Acid Rain by Lorn 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys xo

He smelled the blood before he rounded the corner and saw the bodies.

Corpses were standard, and more than a little common in Hisoka’s work. But this… this was nothing short of mutilation, both before and after death. Whoever had done this had carved skin and snapped bones with such vicious passion that it left Hisoka dizzy and breathless.

Torture and death, both perfectly preserved in the agony held within the sunken eyes and terror lined faces.

“Hisoka, is that you?”

Kurapika.

The spider on the back of his shoulders itched, and his fingertips tingled. Bloodlust certainly had a miasma that left Hisoka on edge, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into something bloody that would fight until death.

But Kurapika wasn’t ready yet, and he certainly hadn’t created this masterpiece.  
  
He came to stand beside Hisoka, expression strained. “You came fast. I found them like this about twenty minutes ago. It already stinks.”

It was strange that no one else had seen the pile, considering the parking lot was wide and open, and the bodies rose in a pile to the skies like a pyre. But for Kurapika, pure, tainted Kurapika, Hisoka could only guess what memories this beautiful picture dragged up from the dark recesses of his memory. Were his family’s corpses swimming in the storm of his mind?

“Why did you ring me?” Hisoka asked, eyes not moving from the pile. Artfully messy. Carelessly strewn, it would seem, but each neck was exposed, each expression visible. None had died in peace.

He sighed. When was the last time he had been so free as to create this kind of chaos? Oh, but there was such precision in the gaping wounds. This was not chaos, this was order in its purest form.

Kurapika barely made a sound when he replied. His eyes were wide and unfocussed, looking slightly desperate. “You… I’m not sure. You seemed like a person that would need to know.”

Far too vulnerable. Hisoka finally turned to Kurapika, pursing his lips. The other boy did a pitiful job of hiding his disgust for both the bodies and Hisoka, but there was a sweetness that was unavoidable in his big eyes.

“Chrollo is gathering his men for a war, you know.” Hisoka said seriously. “He’s stronger than you, and that’s without the men and women in his employ, wholly loyal. If you can’t bear to look at the dead, the fallen leaves, how can you cut through the vines to reach that bloody rose you want to pick?”

Kurapika turned away, the uncertainty melting into hatred. “You’re just as bad as he is. I don’t know why I rang you.”

Hisoka walked forward to close the eyes of the nearest corpse. A young man, his mouth still open in his last, silent scream. What must have been lovely blue eyes were now dull. Hisoka trailed his fingers in the sticky, drying blood, and grabbed Kurapika’s wrist with his other hand.

Kurapika gasped and tried to pull away, but Hisoka tightened his hand until the bones beneath his grip seemed to creak with the wind, and he lifted his bloodied hand to smear Kurapika’s face with the crimson. A vertical line below each eye, like a trail of bloody tears.

“I’m worse than Chrollo, in all of the ways that matter,” Hisoka whispered, lifting Kurapika’s bruising wrist to kiss it softly where the pulse was hammering. “And you rang me because you know that, and I’m still your best chance of an ally anyway.” Hisoka felt his lips stretching into a grin, and watched every detail of Kurapika’s being try not to flinch away. The widening of his pupils, the clenching of his fists, the breath that halted in his thin chest. “You have so much potential to become Ares, and I want to watch your war. Don’t make the mistake of boring me, Kurapika."

-

“Both Meruem and Chrollo’s men were found dead, together. Did you hear?”

“Of course I heard. Do you think it was the Hunters? In the name of peace, they had to trim the excess of both sides?”

“Nah, the Hunters are too diplomatic. They’re barely even a gang, more like some extra cops that don’t mind getting bloody, but they wouldn’t do this. This is murder, pure and simple. Besides, whoever did this doesn’t care about having the Spiders and Chimeras as enemies. The Hunters aren’t so brave.”

 _I wouldn’t call this brave,_ thought Hisoka idly, still sketching. The smaller woman wanted a tattoo to cover her left shoulder, hiding the bullet scar that warped the skin. Hisoka was drawing her a pretty Greenfinch. Her companion, the taller of the two, wanted sex. Hisoka was happy to oblige, once her friend had her tattoo.

“Nine dead. Fuck, this is bad news. If it wasn’t the Hunters, who was it?”

“Apparently there’s a Kurta left. But it’s just a rumour.”

Hisoka leant over his desk to address the two women. They both blushed under his scrutiny.

“It wasn’t the Kurta, I’m afraid.”

“Then who was it, Hisoka?” The taller asked, pushing her chest forward slightly.

Hisoka let his eyes linger for a moment before answering. “It’s all just speculation my dear, and I couldn’t give you the answers you wanted even if I had the information.”

She pouted. “Even if I begged?”

He laughed. “Begging gets tiresome fast. I much prefer a fight.”

-

Hisoka went for drinks with Illumi the following night, and had a wonderful time staring and enjoying the burn of hunger he hadn’t felt in years.

So long of bland nothingness, and now… now everything was happening at the same time.

Illumi bit into the lemon slice that had come with his drink, and Hisoka watched a drop of the juice role down his chin and slender neck. Hisoka wanted to follow it with his tongue, but while Illumi’s body was turned towards Hisoka with an inviting posture, his eyes were cold and curious, like a child poking a wounded animal with something sharp.

“How many people have you killed since you moved to the city, Illumi?” Hisoka asked, hoping the number would be somewhere around nine.

Illumi looked up under his lashes. “I haven’t killed anyone. Why on earth would you ask such a strange question?”

“What’s your family name?” Hisoka asked.

Illumi smiled slightly. Tiny and genuine, and full of murder. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“I could steal your I.D,” Hisoka offered, as if bargaining.

“It’s fake.”

“What isn’t fake, about you?” Hisoka asked. He smiled when Illumi’s expression once more fell into void. The low bass of the music was a constant drum in his skull, and he wanted to read the words carved into Illumi’s skin, and taste the metal of his piercings.

“Everything is false, I’m afraid.” Illumi finally replied, not sounding sorry at all. “From my I.D to my personality.”

“Your verisimilitude is breathtaking,” Hisoka said, raising his glass in toast. “A drink, to honest friends.”

Illumi laughed, and it sounded like a threat. “There is either honesty or friendship; both is impossible. But a drink, Hisoka, for you. The man who douses himself in fuel and then juggles flaming sticks. I hope you have water ready, for when the sparks start spitting.”

-

Every time he saw Gon, the boy seemed to be at least five inches taller. Of course, he wasn’t actually growing so fast, but Hisoka was nothing if not sentimental.

“Hello Gon,” he said warmly. “It’s been a while. How is your fighting coming along?”

Gon beamed. “Its going great! And theres a new boy in my class who has a skateboard that’s really cool and he likes to fight too! But his style is really different to mine, it looks so awesome!”

Hisoka smiled in return. “That’s nice to hear. How is your father?”

Gon’s expression fell, and he shuffled his feet on the pavement. “He’s okay, I guess. I haven’t seen him in a while. Kite’s looking after things for now.” He looked away, and mumbling, said, “He told me not to speak to you anymore.”

Oh Ging. So strong, but so helplessly stupid. “But you want to become better, don’t you?”  
Gon nodded.

“And you know that you need to be able to handle all types of fighting if you want to join your dad in the Hunters, right?”

Another nod.

“And I’m good at fighting, so I don’t really see a problem. Do you?”

“Dad says you’re really bad. I know you’re creepy, but he says it’s worse than that.”

People really needed to stop interfering in Hisoka’s business. It was starting to grate on his nerves. Ging wasn’t doing his organisation any favours.

“Everyone here is terrible, Gon. But that doesn’t make them any easier to fight, I can promise you that.”

“Kite says you’re bad news, too. He’ll tell my dad if he knows I’ve spoken to you.” Gon looked guilty now, and Hisoka felt the first substantial licks of anger.

"It’s your choice Gon, as you’re almost an adult now. I’ll see you around.”

Hisoka left immediately, carrying on down the street with his phone already in his hand, typing so fast that his screen kept freezing. Moments later there was a notification from his bank, saying that Meruem had transferred a large sum of money into Hisoka’s account.

The price for the knowledge of Ging’s absence was great, and the price for Kite’s location even more costly.

Luckily for Meruem, Hisoka was in a vindictive mood.

  
-

“Rumour has it that Hisoka was in the Spiders, years ago.”

“No way, he’s not loyal to Chrollo.”

“He’s not loyal to anyone but himself, and that was the problem. But Chrollo respects Hisoka on some level, and they still work together at times.”

“So why is Hisoka ferrying information between gangs then? Everyone knows that war is coming. If he was a Spider, surely he wouldn’t be helping the Chimeras too?”

“Dude, did you not listen to me? Hisoka doesn’t care about anyone other than himself. Everything else is just amusing collateral damage. He’s smart enough to make himself indispensable to all of the gangs, and that makes him almost untouchable. I bet someone still tries to get him soon. He’s been stirring the pot too much.”

“Who the fuck would be stupid enough to try and kill that bastard?”

“I don’t know man, but it won’t be me. You don’t fuck with Hisoka.”

Again.

You don’t fuck with Hisoka.

-

Hisoka’s walls were thin, so he often left his door unlocked. After all, most people knew not to visit unless they were explicitly invited, and those who ignored the warnings never forgot their manners again, after they barged into his home unannounced.

He heard the bang of his front door bouncing off the wall while he was towel drying his hair over the sink inthe small bathroom, only dressed in some thin sweats and a white tank. Seconds later there was another bang. Slowly, he reached up and grabbed the knife above the mirror, and then opened the door to the hall.

His living room was perfectly as he had left it, only there was a streak of blood leading under the door that was now closed again. He carefully walked across the room, putting one bare foot in front of the other, until he reached the door, which he opened without checking the peephole.

The blood led to Illumi’s apartment.

Hisoka had just left the boundary of his apartment when Illumi came out of his home, blood smeared on his chin and speckled under his left eye. His expression was serene.

“I had a visitor.” Illumi said. “He’s gone now, but I apologise for the noise, and the disturbance. He mistook your apartment for mine. It won't happen again.”

Hisoka looked pointedly at the floor, where the blood was still fresh and shiny on the tiles.

Illumi’s lips twitched. “Oh my,” he said. “It seems he spilt his drink between our apartments. I’ll have to clean that up.”

“Why did someone come to kill you?” Hisoka asked. He still had the knife in his hand, fingers clenched around the blade. Illumi’s door was open a crack, and Illumi seemed to be unarmed. Hisoka was so curious as to what he would find on the other side of the wall.

Illumi wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and when he saw the blood, licked it off. Hisoka bit back a moan and tightened his grip. He was still warm and hazy from his shower, and Illumi held his gaze while he licked all of the blood from his hand.

“Kill me? You’re mistaken. No one would be so foolish as to try.”

“Who are you, Illumi?” Hisoka asked. He took a halting step forward, and found Illumi matched his step. He took another step, and noticed Illumi had something long and thin in his hand. Not a knife, but something smaller.

They circled one another, weapons in plain sight, close enough to feel one another’s breath. Hisoka could smell Illumi; something sharp and fresh like lemongrass, and on top of that the coppery scent of blood.

“Who are you?” Hisoka repeated softly.

Illumi’s eyes flicked down to Hisoka’s knife. “I’m me.”

“Do you really want to dance with me, Illumi?”

Illumi lean forward and pressed a kiss to Hisoka’s cheek, turning his head slightly to gently nudge their noses together.

“I don’t hear any music.”

“Not yet,” Hisoka whispered. Promised. “You’ll hear the screaming soon. A cacophony of shrieks in staccato bursts, loud enough to shake you to that beautiful sordid core, hidden beneath this reticent asceticism. They’ll sing for you, Illumi.”

Illumi’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes fluttered, Hisoka’s pulse throbbing painfully at even that small giveaway. A real reaction. He coveted it.

Illumi spoke, low and calm. “What a sycophantic beast you are. Why, pray tell, would I want your sadistic gift?”

Hisoka stepped back, laughing breathlessly even as he fought his own need to jam his knife in Illumi’s side and kiss him while he bled out. “Because your pretty little nightmare eyes tell a different story to your mouth, Illumi. I can’t wait until they both say my name.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fun note lol in my hometown there is a club called Spiders that plays metal, punk, and eighties hits on the three different dancefloors. They also sell crumpets, which is all I could ever want from a club.
> 
> Kudos/comments keep me going, and thanks again for reading! Xo


	4. Serendipity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late, but it has finally arrived! Woo! Hope everyone enjoys xo
> 
> Song for the chapter: Back to Beginning by Lamb

He never enjoyed being forced to learn the same thing twice, and so, despite the hurdles of misguided youth, Hisoka began to read, and more importantly, remember.

Why fall into the same hole as someone who has already walked the path? Men like Alexander the Great, Attila, even Julius Caesar. All conquerors: all gods.

All dead before their time.

So he read, chewing bubblegum he could pocket without shopkeepers noticing, and imagining scenes in his young mind, scenes of things that young boys shouldn’t have been reading about.

He red wherever he could find peace: under stairs, where nobody thought to look for a boy.

On roofs, where nobody bothered to look for a boy.

In dressing rooms where herds of performers with sweaty faces and dilated eyes would give him candy that tasted wrong and pet his hair and demonstrate how to get their legs behind their heads.

The library became his friend, and when it was replaced by money and interesting people, it was still useful. But by then he didn’t like people following him and seeing what he read, so he got a kindle. Reading glasses too, for the dim evenings when his lamp didn’t seem bright enough.

It was astounding, the kind of books you could buy. Erotica with disproportioned men on the front. Hisoka liked it when their teeth bit around the stem of red roses, or they held a scarily small woman in their arms. Proportions of any kind clearly weren’t considered for those kinds of books, but he enjoyed the easy sleaze of it anyway. Thirteenth Century hymns that were barely legible, even when translated. He found old religions interesting in a mildly curious way. But of all the authors and poets and philosophers, he had two favourites. Hemingway was one: so clearly American, poignant for the things his characters couldn't have. Wilde was another: Dorian Grey so wanting and needful that each page of selfish greed left Hisoka a little more consumed.

He liked needful people the most. In books and out of them, Hisoka liked the kind of people that would crawl sensually on their hands and knees and beg at his feet, with a red, red rose between their teeth.

The night after he perfected the move of curling his leg behind his head he woke in a ditch, the smell of smoke in his clothes and waxy lipstick smeared on his mouth and cheeks. The black that had lined his eyes had slid down his face, and he could feel glitter tickling the bridge of his nose. There was a body beside him, that of a man with a plain old spider tattoo on his naked back, a pretty little stab wound in its centre. Hisoka’s pretty little knife in the pretty little stab wound.

This man had been one of Hisoka’s beloved needful things. Needful to hate and cause pain, but he clearly hadn’t grown up reading like Hisoka had, because he’d been so stupid. So dull. An IQ of a shoe size and no higher.

He hadn’t read about the rise of empires and the fall of the men who would have ruled them, no. Clearly not. But he had danced well with his bulk and his fury, spinning Hisoka in circles across the road, never fast enough to grab anything more than the bitingly cold air.

Hisoka had spun until he was dizzy and sick with it all, with the longing of a needful thing and the disgust of a hateful thing.

The knife had gone in, easier than expected, and the dance had stopped. But the music wouldn’t abate, not now that the beat throbbed up his legs with each heartbeat, as if urging him forward towards the next partner; towards his next needful thing.

He read of battles and plunder and politics and found joy in the repeat of it all: the fall and rebuild and fall again, because people weren’t reading and learning, not like he was.

He was determined if not to be a god, then at least an emperor. The man who built an empire and stayed alive long enough to sit atop the throne while the bodies cooled at his feet.

The beautiful bodies of needful things cooling at his feet.

-

“What did I ask you to do?” Hisoka queried.

“You... y-you asked me to find...”

“Go on,” he prodded gently. “Spit it out before it chokes you, dear.”

“You asked me to find out who was in the city with the name Illumi.”

“And what did you bring me?”

“Nothing.” Whispered.

Fear smelt like stagnant water, and Hisoka was sat in an old, dirty pond of it.

“You brought me nothing.”

“There wasn’t anything, I swear! No ripples, no gossip, the name didn’t come up anywhere! No police records, no criminal records, nothing!”

Hisoka stepped away, and the hooded man breathed tangible relief that was destined to be short lived. “I have three problems now. One: there is a void in my knowledge. Two: I’m an information broker without information. Three: I’m down one snitch.”

The man staggered back, further into the alley. Hisoka didn’t smile, because it wasn’t funny. It was boring. This wasn’t what he wanted, and he _disliked_ not getting what he wanted.

But the blade in his hand felt oh so familiar, a comfort in a stinking pond of fear.

“What is a general without his soldiers?” Hisoka murmured.

The man fell to his knees, sobs choking in his throat and gurgling out, so very like that sweltering, sluggish pond. He didn’t speak, though, so he knew something, at least. No pleas for his family, the children, or the women he fucked and left sexually unsatisfied but complacent with promises of a future.

“A g-general without his soldiers is nothing!” The man gasped, tears leaking into the pond.

Hisoka altered his grip. “Then it's it good that I’m not a general.”

Cutting bone felt like chopping raw carrot, but luckily for Hisoka, carrots were perhaps some of his favourite vegetables.

With blood warming his hands, and bits of eyeball beneath his fingernails, the pond didn’t stink so terribly anymore.

 

-

 

“If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?”

Hisoka slid a glance to Pouf, who was trailing slender fingers through his hair, staring at the strands.

“How much have you drank?” Hisoka asked, and Pouf grinned at his hair.

“It’s never how much I’ve drunk, is it Hisoka? It’s what else.”

Hisoka grinned. “Bad day?”

It was rare enough to see Pouf out of Meruem’s districts. Devout was the word to describe Pouf, who would tear himself apart for the man that barely spared him a sneer. And now the tranquil desperation was locked away somewhere behind hazy eyes and a beautifully shaped lax mouth.

“Terrible. I failed him, Hisoka. Kite isn’t dead.”

Hisoka shrugged. “He’s indisposed, indefinitely. Isn’t that enough?”

“Of course it isn’t.”

Not for Meruem, anyway.

Hisoka wondered, vaguely, if Gon was crying beside Kite in the hospital, hoping that his head would stay on his shoulders, while Hisoka drank with the man who had watched it happen. Pitou was a funny one, with big, catlike eyes and claws to match. But she hadn’t severed Kite’s head completely, and now Pouf was blaming himself because Pitou couldn’t even comprehend the concepts of blame or failure. Hisoka wasn’t a fan of self loathing, because he thought it a waste. Especially on someone like Pouf.

Discretely, he began to text Youpi. _Come pick up your boy, he’s moping again._

“Do you know someone called Illumi?” he asked, still unsatisfied. Pouf was out of it enough that Hisoka could ask for his bank details and he’d probably hand the mover without question.

“No,” Pouf replied. “Are you going to kiss me, Hisoka? I wish you would.”

So he did. Softly, gently, because Pouf felt like sticks beneath his hands that could be blown over in the breeze. Slowly, because he tasted like sweet liqueur. Lazily, because this dance was a slow one, meant to be lingered upon. When he pulled away and Pouf chased his lips, he smiled and gave in.

It was almost sad when Youpi arrived, so tall and domineering of space, and Pouf’s eyes immediately stuck to him like he was the only thing that made sense. Hisoka wasn’t the right partner for Pouf’s dance, but that was fine. A change of rhythm was always nice.

“I failed,” Pouf said, eyes welling as he stared up at Youpi.

Somewhere to the side, there was a waiter at the bar staring at the mountain of a man with the slicked back hair and naive expression, so at odds with the bullet scar on his neck and the bruised knuckles, or the tender way he helped Pouf to his feet.

“You didn’t fail,” he said to Pouf, as soft as a lion with her cub, and yet Pouf disintegrated anyway.

 _“I did!”_ he wailed.

It was time for Hisoka to leave. He gave Youpi a smile and slid past, stopping only when a lightning fast hand wrapped around his forearm, grip as tight as death itself.

Pouf’s eyes were hollow. “This is the beginning,” he whispered. “The first sword has been drawn, and though it wasn’t a killing blow, it was a crippling one. If you want some words to sell, make them these: discord has taken to flight, and her wing span will shroud this city.”

Hisoka removed the hand and kissed the knuckles. “Such a flair for dramatics you have.”

“Not dramatics, Hisoka,” he said. The tears on his cheeks shone in the coloured lights of the bar, like slivers of lightning against a backdrop of blizzard snow. “You’ve done this, and the armies will march.” He smiled faintly. “Liars and murderers and thieves make for the best prey, don’t you think? Oh, but the hunt has _arrived.”_

 

-

 

Machi was outside his door when he arrived home, her face as unmoving as the grave.

“Uvogin is dead.”

Oh dear.

“It’s certainly a night for mourning, isn’t it?” Hisoka asked brightly, unlocking the apartment. Gingerbread the fat cat meowed and wound between his legs as he entered, flicking on the lights and taking off his coat. It was suede, and if Machi wanted to draw blood, he didn’t want it stained.

“Did you cause it?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“You know that isn’t what I asked.”

Hisoka picked up the cat, fairly certain that she wouldn’t attack him if he was holding an animal. Gingerbread began to purr, resting one paw against the base of his throat. He smiled. “I have no idea how he died, what happened, when, or why. Or who, for that matter.”

Half truth was better than all lies, right? Because he didn’t want to fall out with Machi, not yet.

She sighed. Deflated, rubbing her eyes, and clearly attempting to rub away the grief. “Nobunaga is hysterical. Even Chrollo. We... we didn’t. Not _Uvogin,_ Hisoka.”

Hisoka hadn’t expected Uvogin either. Kurpapika has certainly taken his advice to heart. It wasn’t at all a predictable move.

“How?” he asked, cuddling the cat.

Machi choked, put the back of her hand to her mouth. She looked away, faintly green. “I don’t know. Not yet. They were still digging when I left.”

“Digging?”

“He was in a shallow grave. The motherfucker that did it buried him.”

“Maybe Meruem did it. Did you hear about Kite?”

“Not Meruem. He wouldn’t start with Uvogin; he’s too clever for that. He’ll go for Chrollo. Thinking like any ant would, to remove the Queen.”

“I’ll find out for you,” Hisoka said with false sincerity. “I hated Uvogin, but Machi I like us being friends.” A little more sincere. “His death won’t go unpunished.” An honest truth.

“No, it won’t.” Machi said, her voice little higher than a growl. She turned to leave. “Your neighbour arrived a few minutes before you did. His mouth was bleeding, and he has a fresh tattoo on his neck. It looked sore. He had a glock. I asked him if he killed Uvogin, but he just cocked his head at me, like I was an annoying fly that wouldn’t leave. But he’s too skinny anyway. Uvogin wouldn’t have been bested by a freak like that.”

 

-

“What are you chewing?” Hisoka asked during the next evening, sketching Illumi’s hands. They were in Hisoka’s apartment, because Illumi refused to let Hisoka into his home. Uvogin’s death was on the news. Frontline stuff, because everyone knew that gang crime was on the rise.

Illumi didn’t chew loudly, but Hisoka could see his jaw moving every time he glanced up. He preferred to look at Illumi’s profile over the flashing pictures of Uvogin’s shrouded corpse.

“Mint.”

“Oh? You like gum?” Hisoka preferred flavours that were so sickly that they reminded him of childhood and hours under the stairs and on roofs and in dressing rooms, but mint made sense for Illumi. Hued blues and greens and just sharp enough to sting.

“I do, but it’s not gum. Just mint leaves.”

Hisoka paused in his sketching and looked up fully. Illumi was staring at the cat, which was shamelessly splayed for the attention it was receiving beneath his hands.

“That’s a little strange.” Hisoka said slowly, hoping his confusion would warrant a full explanation. Illumi was infuriatingly good at letting awkward silences lengthen, and leaving Hisoka full of frustration.

“I used to smoke. Killua said it made me stink, so I started chewing mint instead. Truthfully, I like the smell of tobacco, but I’m used to this now.”

“One addiction for another.” Hisoka murmured, thinking of a cigarette between those long fingers, balancing gracefully between knuckles. The image was aesthetically appealing, but Hisoka couldn’t picture Illumi with yellowed teeth and battered lungs. Better the mint leaves.

Illumi’s sly eyes moved to Hisoka. “We all have our addictions.”

Hisoka’s addiction was drawn across pages of his sketch book, varying in pose and dress, but always with the same piercing aura that screamed WARNING.

“Can you guess my addiction, Illumi?” he asked, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Illumi shrugged. “What is there to guess? You wear your addiction like your tattoos, Hisoka: with pride. You’re addiction is to things that you shouldn’t have. Periculum Amas.”

“And that means?”

Illumi met his eyes, turning his head so that the tiny axes clashing on his neck showed through the fall of his hair. Hisoka’s feet were humming again, yearning to dance. What a delightfully needful thing he was becoming.

“You love danger.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again guys, all my thanks for reading, and esp for kudos/comments, which remind me why I actually publish my writing :') you're all so kind!
> 
> Hopefully see you in the next chapters xo


	5. Incandescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but Uni started again and is already kicking my ass! I'll update whenever I can, but as always I am never organised enough to have a schedule.
> 
> Song for the chap: This Charming Man by The Smiths
> 
> Hope you enjoy! xo

When the chaos started is when Hisoka truly began to have fun.

There were police everywhere, combing the streets and picking up anyone that looked suspicious- all innocent of course, because the true criminals knew when to hide.

When Hisoka knocked on Illumi's door, it was annoyingly slow to open, and he was almost frustrated when it finally opened. 

“Can I help you?”

“I’m going away for the weekend.”

“You want me to water your plants?”

Machi was going to water the plants.

“I want you to come with me.”

Through the gap of the open door, Gingerbread slithered out and wound herself around Hisoka’s legs. Illumi’s eyes were dark and level, as unchanging as stone.

“Alright. When do we leave?”

 

-

 

“Where are we going?”

It took Illumi almost an hour to ask, and Hisoka had been waiting for it since they had left the city and headed north. He was in one of Chrollo’s cars, a pretty red thing that went far too fast for someone with Hisoka’s tendency to be reckless. He was already pushing ninety, but Illumi was without a care, reading an old, yellowed paperback with bends in the spine and corners folded to mark the pages.

“Just a little hotel up in the hills.”

“Is it five stars?”                                                  

Hisoka almost smiled at that. Still, he checked his mirrors for flashing lights. “I wouldn’t book us into anything less.”

“What am I expected to do until Monday?”

“This isn’t work, Illumi. Do whatever you like. I hear they have a pool, and a gym. Some kind of spa, too. And there’s a town nearby, with bars and clubs if you’d rather that.”

“Do I have my own room?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” It wouldn’t work otherwise.

Illumi turned a page in his book, smoothed over the crumpled edges. “I didn’t think you to be someone to run from a fire, Hisoka.” His voice held no inflection, but Hisoka could almost taste the disappointment. The disapproval. How sweet.

“Darling, fire has never scared me. My concern is the people that would douse the flames.”

 

-

 

The room was beautiful, as he knew it would be. A king sized bed, an en-suite the size of a small house, and a balcony that looked out over the forest. The year was close to ending, and the temperature was dropping, but Hisoka loved the crisp smell of the air, and he loved the way Illumi bundled himself into scarves at the slightest chill.

The receptionist, Marie, gave Hisoka a knowing smile as she passed him the keys to the room.

“Same arrangement as last time?”

He winked. “You know the drill.”

In the room, Illumi unwound himself out of his scarves and coat, sat in the plush chair by the fire and a decanter of whisky in one hand, and resumed his reading, all without so much as looking at up.

Hisoka flicked on the news, though it remained only for a moment. He had already memorised the headlines, and they were all inaccurate. Close enough to graze the truth and raise his hackles, but nothing he needed to bare his teeth at.

His phone chimed. Machi.

_Cops came over earlier and said they have questions for you, so I told them where you were staying. Do I need to water the cactus?_

They had moved quicker than he had expected. He hoped that Kurapika was hiding like a good boy, and not out causing more chaos while there were searches. Not all of the police officers were sympathetic to big eyes and a tragic past, which Hisoka found out through years of trial and error. Chrollo, Meruem, and the Hunters all knew when to keep their heads down, but rabid little upstarts with nothing but blood to lose were less likely to heed his sage advice.

_No, don’t water the cactus. You would drown her._

_Her?_

All of Hisoka’s plants had names. The cactus was called Machi, because she was beautiful when she flowered, but the rest of the time she was prickly and dry.   

_I’ll explain when I return._

“You’re grinning at your phone,” Illumi said, not looking up from his book.

“I read something funny.”

“Share the joke?”

“It’s before your time,” Hisoka said.

Illumi’s eyes were narrow when they finally left the page. “I’m barely younger than you.”

Hisoka eyed him sceptically, forcing disbelief into his expression. “Are you even legal?”

A small, stubborn line appeared between Illumi’s thin brows. “I’m twenty five. You’re not that stupid, or blind.”

Twenty five. That was nice to know. He’d have to jot it down in the sparse pages of information he had collected over the months on the subject of Illumi. It could go right next to the bullet point that said he used to smoke. _Previous smoker, twenty five years old. Likes to read, hates to answer questions. Thinks he could kill me, if it came down to it._

That last one was unspoken, but Hisoka knew that Illumi wouldn’t have agreed to come with him without solid confidence in his own abilities, whatever they were.

“Do you favour knives or guns?” Hisoka asked. He made himself comfortable on the bed, arranging the pillows behind his bed so that he could watch Illumi without discomfort.

Illumi sighed and put his book down. “That’s an odd question Hisoka. Do you prefer fucking or being fucked?”

He couldn’t help but grin. “I like both. You won’t make me blush, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

“I was demonstrating how out of place your question was.”

“Was it inappropriate for neighbours?”

“It was inappropriate for anyone.” Illumi’s lips twitched, once. Just enough to hint at disguised amusement. “Besides, you could have frightened me. Guns? Knives? Most people start by asking my favourite colour.”

“What is it?”

“Blue.”

“Mine is pink.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“If I waited for you to ask every time we spoke, I would be long dead before we could ever hold a semblance of a conversation.” An idea struck. “Let’s play a game.”

“Aren’t we already?”

He wanted to fuck that smug superiority out of Illumi’s quiet expression.

“Of course we are, but another might be fun. Let’s play twenty questions. If you refuse to answer, you get a forfeit.”

Immediately Illumi’s expression shuttered. “No.”

Hisoka pouted. “Please? I’ll be good. I won’t even ask if you’ve killed anyone recently, and you can always forfeit if you really don’t want to answer.”

Illumi stood. “I’m going for dinner.”

 

-

 

The meal was tense, and Illumi spent the time silently, chewing his lasagna and refusing to meet Hisoka’s eyes. He was so clearly weighing his options that it was painfully endearing, and Hisoka was half hard throughout the three courses. When it came to the bill, he waved the waiter away and told her to put it on his room bill. She left with a blush and a large tip, and Illumi took two bottles of wine from the bar before they headed back to the room. He passed the red to Hisoka and kept the rose for himself.

Illumi locked himself in the bathroom, and Hisoka listened to the shower run as he opened the wine and flicked through the pages of Illumi’s paperback. The Art of War. It was somehow incredibly predictable, but the small annotations in neat writing along the margins were not, and they were a delight. Some were in Japanese, others in English. A few were in other languages Hisoka couldn’t recognise, and he wondered if that was deliberate. Illumi seemed like the kind of man to write in as many languages as possible so that if someone picked up his battered book they wouldn’t be able to know his thoughts, no matter how trivial.

Another bullet point: multilingual.

The turn of the lock sounded, and when Hisoka looked up, Illumi was stood in the doorway in tight fitting, low riding sweats, and a baggy, ripped shirt. His wet hair hung loose, freshly brushed but still dripping water. He went straight for the wine and drank from the neck of the bottle as though he couldn’t feel Hisoka’s hungry gaze, or he didn’t care.

“First question.”

Hisoka put the book on the bedside table and moved over so that there was room for Illumi, who ignored the offer and opened the double doors to the balcony. Hisoka followed, immediately glad that he had.

The night was cold, but the sky was clear where it could be seen over the silhouette of the forest. There was no traffic, no screaming drunks to be heard. Just the whisper of wind between trees, and Illumi’s steady breathing.

“First question. Why are you so interested in me?”

Hisoka leant against the railing and smiled lazily. “You’ve already asked me that.”

“You didn’t give me a real answer.”

“You want honesty?”

“I would prefer it, yes, or this game of yours won’t be worth playing.”

Illumi passed over the wine while Hisoka thought about his answer. It was sweeter than he liked wine to be, but he drank it gratefully, knowing that if he leant over and kissed Illumi, he would taste it in his mouth. Both of their mouths tasting of wine and secrets.

“You interest me because you’re my opposite in so many ways. You’re wound so tightly that sometimes I think a stiff breeze will snap you in half, or start a catalyst of destruction that could only end with death. Your eyes are dead, but your skin is warm when I touch it, and I can hear your heartbeat. I want to see what you’re hiding underneath the shell.”

Illumi took a moment to stare out into the forest before nodding. He took the wine back, and for a few quiet moments they both listened to the faint laughter from a higher room somewhere else in the hotel.

“Your turn.”

“Why do you like history so much?”

Illumi didn’t seem shocked by the question, which was a little annoying. Hisoka had aimed for surprise at the very least, because it had taken weeks to figure out that Illumi’s knowledge of dead languages and dates wasn’t just down to intelligence.

“It is unending and ambiguous. Nothing is solely good or bad, despite how people write about it. My turn.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you like history so much?”

Hisoka threw back his head and laughed. “Very nice. I like to learn from other people’s mistakes, rather than making my own.”

“Like who?”

“No, it’s my turn. How many siblings do you have?”

“Four. Like who?” 

“Alexander the Great would be my favourite, I suppose. I like his tenacity.”

Illumi drank more, and Hisoka’s eyes followed the line of his throat as he swallowed.

Hisoka took the bottle back and noticed its lightness, and how much they had already consumed. He asked, “How many languages do you know?”

“Nine.”

That was... impressive. Beyond impressive.

“When did you get your first tattoo?”

Hisoka thought about it. “I think I was twelve. Maybe thirteen. It was an awful stick and poke alien on my arm, because I loved aliens, and I would watch Star Trek through shop windows whenever it was on the television.”

Illumi frowned. “I have never seen it.”

“I had it covered up years ago.” Hisoka lifted the sleeve of his shirt to show the tattoo on the side of his left bicep. Now there was a strange geometric pattern of dots and watercolour that he had designed while high. The outline of the tiny alien could still be seen if you squinted hard enough, but in the low light all that was visible were the black dots and the lilac.

“I meant Star Trek. I have never watched it.”

“What?”

 “I have never watched Star Trek.”

Hisoka stepped back. “Maybe this was a mistake. I’ll ring you a taxi, sorry for bothering-" At Illumi’s downright irritated expression, Hisoka broke off into laughter.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Says the man who has never watched Star Trek. Next you’ll tell me that you’ve never seen Star Wars.”

“Is that the one with Dark Major?”   

Hisoka moaned and cupped his face. “I’m going to be sick.”

When he moved his hands, Illumi was smiling ever so slightly. “I’m joking. My younger brother grew up absolutely certain that he was a Jedi.”

“Which brother?”

“Is that your question?”

“I suppose it is.” 

“Killua.”

“Ah. The bouncy one.”

Illumi’s smile almost widened. “Yes, the bouncy one. My turn.”

“Be my guest.”

“I am. What is your favourite film?”

“Coraline. Who was the last person you slept with?”

The smile fell. “I am not answering that.”

“So... you forfeit?”

“Hisoka-"

“Answer or you forfeit,” Hisoka said lightly.

Illumi closed his mouth and his jaw twitched before he ground out, “I forfeit.”

“Then kiss me.”

There was no hesitation when Illumi moved forward, still holding the wine, and pressed his cold lips to Hisoka’s mouth. It was soft and chaste, but when Illumi went to pull away, Hisoka twined his hands in Illumi’s damp hair and dragged him back, pressing them together again, smiling when Illumi’s lips parted slightly and he could push his tongue inside to graze Illumi's blunt teeth and taste his tongue. He felt Illumi’s chilled skin break out into goosebumps, heard the almost empty bottle crack against the marble floor as it was dropped and Illumi breathed wine into Hisoka’s mouth. The entire thing was surprisingly gentle, like they were uncertain, both waiting for the world to end.

Hisoka made a noise in his throat like a gasp when Illumi pressed him back into the railing, and Illumi made a noise like a deep, low moan.

There was a bang on the door to their room, and a muffled shout. Hisoka tore his lips away from Illumi’s slack mouth and grazed a kiss against his cheek.

“Compose yourself darling, the police are here to ask us some questions.”

If Hisoka had ever wondered about Illumi’s ability to kill, the uncertainty was now gone. And Hisoka had quickly gone from neutral to enemy, like lightning, and Illumi’s dead eyes were burning.

Luckily, Hisoka rather enjoyed the heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who reacts to this fic! I'm always pleased to have new readers, but comments and kudos really keep my spirits up, so mega thanks to those who find the time!
> 
> Lots of love, and hope to see you in the next chapter xo


	6. Inebriated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Hisoka and Illumi were real people, with real metabolisms and alcohol limits, you CANNOT tell me that they wouldn't get drunk on wine together. They would, and it would be funny.
> 
> Song for the chapter: Calling All by Phantogram (this is one of two songs that basically inspired this whole fic, second song to feature in a later chapter)
> 
> Love to all, hope you enjoy! xo

“Isn’t this romantic?” Hisoka asked as he opened the door to the three police officers. 

“Hisoka,” The tallest said. He looked vaguely familiar, but then again they all did. It was the uniform. “We have a couple of questions for you.”

Hisoka scratched at his hair, scrunched his nose. No, this officer was definitely a new one. “Will it take long?”

“As long as it takes.”

Hisoka conceded, opening the door for them to enter the room. Illumi was stood against the far wall like a malevolent shadow staring death at Hisoka’s soul. When the police offers asked for Illumi’s full name and identification, Hisoka blew him a kiss.

“Joe Smith.”

The female officer peered at Illumi. “You don’t look like a Joe.”

Illumi’s smile was polite and cutting. “Then isn’t it lucky that my name doesn’t rely upon your favour.” He handed her a licence of some sort, and after a moment she passed it back with a nod and a flush.

The two male officers kept their eyes on Hisoka.

“We’ve had reports that you’ve been conducting suspicious activity across the city.”

Illumi was looking grimmer by the second. 

“That sounds fun, doesn’t it? Any evidence? Was I caught on camera, perhaps?”

Silence.

He smiled. “I think you have the wrong person. I’ve been here for five days now, which I’m sure you can confirm with whoever was on the desk. A girl, I think.”

“Marie,” Illumi supplied tonelessly.

Hisoka snapped his fingers. “Marie, that’s it. She checked us in; maybe she can give you some information. If not, I’m sure they have CCTV you could look at.”

“A convenient alibi.”

“Or the truth.” His smile widened. “I’ll let you dutiful officers of the law decide which.”

“Evidence can be faked.”

“I’m sure it can, but I don’t quite understand why you think I would do it. You could have ruined our romantic getaway, if Il- Joe wasn’t quite so forgiving.”

Illumi was looking somewhat less than forgiving, and the smaller two officers visibly cringed away from the black fury.

“Sir, we don’t mean to involve you in something that isn’t your-“

“Then what exactly is it you want to do?” Illumi interrupted. “You want me to confirm Hisoka’s location? It was here. You want to press some kind of charges? That’s fine, but the ramifications wouldn’t be worth your retirement fund.”

The biggest officer’s jaw twitched in anger. “You got an expensive lawyer?”

“I’ve no doubt his shoes are worth more than your kidneys,” Illumi said. “And unless you want to meet him and see the leather brogues that could put your children through college, I suggest you leave us and interview Hisoka at another time. You have no substantial evidence and are making baseless accusations which I don’t recommend you continue, considering he has both alibis and evidence that opposes these claims of yours, which are looking more and more like attempts to intimidate him into admitting something.”

“Sounds like you’re the lawyer,” the woman observed.

“I am whatever is needed.” 

That was interesting. Hisoka opened the door again. “Will that be all? Please do contact me if you have anything truly worth interviewing me over.”

“Bad things follow you like a rancid smell, Hisoka. We need you to cooperate. Things have been happening this week, all over the city, and innocent people are getting hurt. If you-“

“But I’ve been _here_ all week.”

“No, you-“

“Charge him or get out,” Illumi said. “We’re well within our rights to ask for that.”

The officer sighed, rubbed at his face. “Do the lives of innocent people mean that little to you?”

Illumi cocked his head. “What have they ever done for me?”

Hisoka put a hand over his mouth and tried to breathe through the laughter. The wine was hitting him hard. “I’m afraid it’s time to go, officers. Joe is getting frustrated, and I do hate to leave my lovers hanging in suspense.”

“I doubt that,” the officer muttered. He walked to the door with his two companions. “We’ll be seeing you.” He nodded at Illumi. “Sir.”

They left without further words. Hisoka closed the door softly, rested his head against the wood as he listened for the telltale footsteps away from the door. There was nothing for a few minutes, but eventually they gave up waiting for something to listen for and left.

Then Illumi spoke. 

“You brought me here as a false alibi.”

Hisoka shrugged, turned so that his shoulders were against the door. Illumi was still stood a length away. Hisoka could still taste wine and Illumi’s tongue in his mouth. He smiled.

“I also wanted your family name, but I knew it was likely that you would bring fake identification.”

“You planned this?” 

“I had warning, you see. Not all officers hate me. Some enjoy my company quite a lot, actually.”

“By that you mean you fuck them into a dazed silence.” 

“I appreciate you thinking so highly of my prowess.”

“I think very little of you,” Illumi said. “And what’s there is dwindling quickly. You used me.”

“Think of it as a partnership of deceit,” Hisoka offered, coming forward. Illumi didn’t back away, but his shoulders tensed. “You handled yourself exceptionally well, like I knew you would. Are you enjoying the dance yet?”

“I don’t think you quite understand the hole that you’re digging yourself into.”

“Rich family,” Hisoka said, plucking up the wine and holding it out to Illumi. “Powerful lawyer. Maybe I’ve been handling this wrong. Should I simply Google you?”

“The internet is a bad place to find facts,” Illumi replied, taking the wine. He took a sip from the bottle, cringed. Drank more, almost half of the bottle in one smooth motion. He passed it back to Hisoka. “It’s warm now. Disgusting.”

“I just want to see you smile,” Hisoka cooed, crowding into Illumi’s space. He finished the bottle off, throwing it on the bed. It was horrible.  “Is that too much to ask?”

“You ask far too many questions.”

“You’ve already told me that,” Hisoka murmured. Illumi’s hands slipped around his waist and squeezed tight enough to hurt. “If I’m so awful, why not leave?”

“Are you fucking the girl at the desk?”

“Marie?” Hisoka moved Illumi’s hair off his neck, glanced down at the foreign script. “What makes you ask that?”

“She’s lying for you as we speak,” Illumi said without inflection. His cheeks were rosy. “And I don’t enjoy sloppy seconds.”

Hisoka felt a flash of temper, pulled Illumi’s hair hard enough that the muscles in his neck stood to stark relief, though his impassive face remained the same.

“I’m paying her mother’s hospital bills, thank you. I don’t appreciate what you’re suggesting.”

“That you’re a whore?”

“That being a whore is a bad thing. There are plenty of things to condemn me for, darling, at least make it one of the exciting reasons.”

“I’m going home.”

“Not tonight you’re not,” Hisoka said, loosening his grip again so that he could stroke the tips of his fingers across Illumi’s neck and jaw. “We have this room for another two days, and we’re both over the drink driving limit. Don’t you want to stay? Get some country air away from the pollution?”

“You are the pollution,” Illumi said, tilting his head into the touch. His eyelids lowered a fraction, as if soothed despite his words. “A miasma that follows me.”

“A plague,” Hisoka agreed, as Illumi’s hands moved from his hips to squeeze his ass. He was starting to get hard, just at the thought of seeing more of Illumi’s skin, running his hands over the muscle and leaving a smattering of bruises and blood. This was what he lived for, the moments of unwilling surrender in the hitch of a breath, the fluttering of eyes, the lax curve of a mouth.

Illumi reached up with a deceptive caress of Hisoka’s cheek before gasping his jaw and pulling his head down for a volatile kiss that hurt as much as it heated, like a painful pressure you couldn’t bring yourself to move from. Illumi opened his mouth and Hisoka groaned, hips stuttering forward as he tongued Illumi’s teeth, then further, meeting that pressure with his own force until they were grinding against each other, sloppy and out of rhythm, months of tension reaching a crescendo.

He almost missed the hiss of a blade unsheathing.

Hisoka struck out with his left hand, gripping Illumi’s wrist hard enough to fracture bones, but Illumi just opened his eyes and laughed into Hisoka’s mouth, twisting his hand into the grip until Hisoka was forced to release his hand. Their mouths tore away and he blocked the fist aimed at his sternum, grinning, took the kick to his thigh with good humour, ducked the blade aimed at his throat, laughing even as the world spun and blood rushed to his head. Near the floor, he kicked out, hitting Illumi’s ankle and watching as he slipped on the tile. They were both grinning, and Hisoka realised that even though this fight was serious, even as he was aiming to hurt and Illumi was doing the same, they were both on the wrong side of drunk for it to work.

He couldn’t hold in the laughter. He curled forward, and the sound of Illumi dropping his blade was drowned out by his wheezing, the situation so ridiculous that he couldn’t help himself- couldn’t register Illumi as the threat he truly was because he was propped against a door handle and trying so obviously not to let Hisoka see his shoulders shaking with laughter. Neither of them were stupid- there was a vein of bloodlust running beneath the surface, but they had reached a comfortable stalemate for the time being. It made it all funnier.

“I thought you were going to try and kill me,” Hisoka choked out.

“I’m not impervious to alcohol,” Illumi said in a tight, constrained voice. His lips kept twitching. “I’ll try again in the morning.”

“This is the worst fight I’ve ever been in,” Hisoka said in disbelief. “I thought you’d be one of the best.”

“We’re neither on top form,” Illumi replied, apparently tired of standing. He joined Hisoka on the floor, and there were volumes of books of unspoken words in the languid stretch of his legs, the corded muscles of his arms. The mirth was only evident in his eyes, but it was more than enough. “And there simply isn’t any benefit for me. I’m in your territory, and the police know I was here with you. If you die, I’m incriminated immediately.” 

“On the contrary, they know Joe Smith was here,” Hisoka said, laughing again. He’d never before reached the point of so desperately wanted to maim another person that all they could do was laugh about it. He was a little bit in love. “Who is Illumi?”

“Who indeed,” Illumi said, humour dimming from his eyes, just for a moment.

“Whatever is needed,” Hisoka quoted, and Illumi nodded. “Do you think you could kill me, Illumi?”

Illumi nodded again. “I know I could.”

“Just not right now.”

“I could kill you now if I needed to,” Illumi said. “The only thing I’m lacking is the urgency, but we have all weekend. I still have time.”

“Oh,” Hisoka said, smile widening. “Do you intend to try?”

“Of course,” Illumi replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. “You need to be disposed of.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. Do you intend to kill me?”

“I intend to fuck you until neither of us can walk.”

Illumi cracked open one eye and smiled. “The only thing you’re lacking is the urgency, but we have all weekend. You still have time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is literally nothing funnier to me than when you're drunk but you have no idea until you try to do something that involves physical movement and you just crumble. Like, it all hits at once and suddenly you have no balance or sense of place, and all you can do is laugh.
> 
> See you all in the next chap :) xo


	7. Fanciful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I apologise for the delays. My only excuse is life, but know that I won't drop this story until it is finished. I couldn't!
> 
> Song: Save That Shit by Lil Peep

He woke up with a pounding head, struggling to breathe.

It took a precious second to realise that Illumi was crushing him into the pillow- not with malicious intent, but rather with the weight of his prone body. He breathed steadily into Hisoka’s ear, slow and warm. His hand was palm up against the pillow beside Hisoka’s head, covered in tiny white scars he hadn’t noticed until now.

The night came back in pieces.

They had drank, and kissed. Then the police had visited, and then they had laughed for what seemed like a lifetime at the absurdity of it all. And then they had drunk more, and resumed kissing.

It was no wonder he felt like death warmed over. He wasn’t twenty anymore, and the alcohol sat heavy in his stomach and heavier in his skull. His mouth felt like dry powder, and he was painfully hard, fully clothed and pressed into the mattress.

Illumi’s hand twitched and he sighed into Hisoka’s ear, garnering shivers and raised skin. The hand curled into a fist before releasing, as if in sleep Illumi was holding something. Hisoka put his own hand there onto the waiting palm and watched the fingers clench again, though this time they didn’t loosen. Illumi sighed again, and Hisoka fell asleep despite his erection and the discomfort.

 

-

 

He woke again as Illumi shrugged into his coat and stepped into his shoes.

“I have been called into work.”

“Oh,” Hisoka said.

“I will return this evening, likely around seven.”

“Oh,” Hisoka said again, lighter this time. He shifted against the pillows. “Need a lift?”

“A car has been sent, so no. But thank you.” The polite ‘thank you’ was somewhat hastily tacked on, and for a second Hisoka thought that Illumi might blush, perhaps look away in embarrassment. But then he was reminded of who he was with, because Illumi held his gaze steadily, and his colour remained icy pale.

“Have a good time,” Hisoka said, unsure what else there was to say. Where were his shoes, his wallet? He didn’t dare glance around the room for them while Illumi was still lingering.

Illumi nodded. “I don’t have a key, so I will text you when I arrive. You will have to collect me from the foyer.”

“Alright. Stay safe.”

Illumi’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I intend to fuck you tonight, so rest assured that I will avoid harm.”

 _“Oh,”_ Hisoka said for the third time, an entirely different weight behind the word. He was left blinking at the door as it closed softly.

 

-

 

Then it was a rush to find his shoes and tie them. He scrambled for his wallet and car keys, the knife in his bag, thinking of the handgun in the glove compartment that he may need.

Then he followed Illumi.

The car outside of the hotel wasn’t so much a car as another hotel, this one on wheels. It was long and sleek and black, like Illumi’s hair, and the man that stepped out of the driver’s side to hold open the door looked somewhere between a butler and a soldier. The suit was nice, but it bunched and strained as he stretched his arms, as he bowed at Illumi and closed the door behind him. Hisoka watched from the foyer as the car pulled away, using the camera on his phone to zoom in on the licence plate.

In the parking lot he hotwired a car, just in case Illumi looked behind him and saw Chrollo’s distinct red car and knew Hisoka was following. Hell, maybe he would know anyway. Hisoka kind of hoped so. There was a pair of sunglasses in the door of the car which he put on as he pulled away, thankful to the gods he didn’t believe in, because the sun felt like it was carving into his eyeballs and ricocheting around his head.

He followed Illumi’s car into a small town full of high-rise business buildings, and parked in front of a steakhouse across the street from where the car pulled up to drop Illumi off outside of a bank. Hisoka watched him get out of the car, walk into the building, and then after a few minutes, walk out. It was all very mundane, and once he climbed back into the car, it pulled away.

Hisoka lingered for almost half an hour, just staring at that bank, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb in contemplation. Had he made a mistake? But that look- no, he couldn’t have.

On the twenty seventh minute after Illumi had exited the bank, someone inside began screaming. Then another. And another. People ran out. Someone was sick on the pavement, another was crying. A mother was clutching her child; a man fell to the floor in his struggle to run away.

Hisoka stepped out of the car and crossed the street, helping the gasping man to his feet.

“What on earth has happened?” he asked mildly.

The man looked up with the blind, horror stricken eyes of a civilian unused to death. “The- the manager. He’s dead.”

“Oh dear,” Hisoka said, patting the man’s shoulder in a cheerful mockery of pity. “Was he terribly old?”

“He was _murdered._ His throat was slit- oh god, I’m going to faint-“

Hisoka let him drop to the pavement. In the distance, sirens began to wail. He winced. He needed to visit a chemist and get some painkillers, maybe stop by a diner for some breakfast. He checked his watch and altered the plan. Stop for some lunch, instead.

He got back into the car and sighed, melting into the seat. His phone chimed just as he was about to pull away from the curb.

 _How goes your relaxing weekend?_ Asked Machi.

Hisoka grinned and replied, _It’s exactly what I needed. How are my plants?_

 

-

 

The rest of the day passed by in a pleasant blur that Hisoka could only name an absence of Illumi. Lunch was delicious, made better by the absence of pain from his hangover once he visited the chemist. Then he spent a few hours browsing local shops, ringing people and handling business safely away from home. His tattoo parlour was shut, but appointments were always being booked for the following months.

Kite was healing slowly but steadily, a local Gungi Champion had been reported missing, and Kurapika was keeping relatively quiet. Chrollo was plotting some extensive revenge, Hisoka knew, even if it wasn’t spoken aloud. Uvogin, despite his many character failings, was much loved within the Spiders.  Hisoka changed his mind and dismissed the idea of revenge any time soon- it was much too early, he realised. At this phase in his grief, Chrollo would still be listening to Moonlight Sonata on repeat and crying.

He picked up some condoms in a small convenience store. He already had some at the hotel, but you could never have too many, right? He picked up some flowers too, for the sake of romance, and for what was no doubt going to be a picture of hilarity watching Illumi’s expression as he was handed a bunch of tulips, followed by strawberry favoured condoms and versatile lube.

 

-

 

Illumi returned to the hotel under a darkening sky, and Hisoka was outside by the pool when he received the short text. Here. He text Illumi to come around the back, and soon they were both sat on the sun-beds left neglected since summer, looking at the stars through the canopy of trees.

“I got you flowers,” Hisoka said, gesturing to the flowers between them.

“And condoms. How sweet.”

“Very sweet,” Hisoka agreed. “Strawberry flavoured, in fact.”

He felt more than saw Illumi’s reluctant smile.

“Have you eaten?” Hisoka asked. He was hungry again after his lunch.

“No. Shall we go for dinner?”

“I’ve heard of a nice restaurant in the nearby town. Shall we try it?”

“If you like.”

Hisoka leant over and pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to Illumi’s surprised lips. “I would like. Let’s go.”

 

_

 

 

They pulled up outside the steakhouse not after a short ride, and Hisoka made a noise of deliberation as he gazed at the menu on the outside of the building, ignoring Illumi’s furious stare. “I’m not sure what I fancy. Ribeye or sirloin?”

A harassed looking waitress came out to greet them. “Right this way, gentlemen, and I apologise for the chaos. There was some trouble at the bank across the street earlier today, but we promise to make your meal an enjoyable one.”

“Trouble?” Hisoka asked as they were led to a table.  “Of what kind?”

“The manager had an... accident,” she said doggedly. “And sadly passed away.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t sound all that sad about it,” Hisoka told her with a wink to soften the blow. She smiled a little and handed him a menu.

“Just between us, he was a bastard. A terrible man that deserved whatever happened.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hisoka agreed warmly. “May I please have the sirloin? Rare.”

“Of course!” She turned to Illumi. “Sir?”

“Filet Mignon. Make sure that it is rare.” He glared at Hisoka. “I imagine by the end of the night I will be sick of tough meat.”

Hisoka almost choked on his laughter as the waitress gaped and made a hasty retreat.

“Do you not like the restaurant?”

“I don’t like _you._ Every time I think there is something in you worth my attention, you crush it.”

Hisoka waved a dismissive hand. “You’re just grumpy because you’re as hungover as I am.”

“I am not.”

“You are, but that’s okay. You can fuck me tomorrow instead, when you’re feeling better.”

Illumi looked like he wanted to strangle Hisoka or slam his own head repeatedly against the table. “You are the worst person I have ever met.”

“Now I know that’s a lie,” Hisoka replied, eying Illumi. How could he not? The man was artwork in its purest, primal form. Beautiful and furious like a vengeful god.  “I love it when you wear your hair down, like a waterfall of silk. You’re stunning.”

“Shut up.”

“Why did you kill the bank manager, Illumi?”

And for once, honesty. “I was paid to.”

Hisoka smiled. “How much are you being paid to stay with me this weekend?”

Illumi blinked slowly. “Not enough, I assure you.”

“And how much to kill me before we return?”

“Not enough.”

“Do you think you’ll manage?”

Their drinks arrived and Illumi downed his brandy immediately. “I think that someone will die tomorrow.”

“A little death wouldn’t hurt either of us,” Hisoka replied, toasting the air with his own drink and sipping. “Did you like the flowers?”

“I liked the condoms more.”

“You must really like safe sex.”

“Or I just hate tulips.”

Hisoka put his hand on the table, palm up, and watched as Illumi slid his own hand atop and linked their fingers. “But you don’t hate me.”

Illumi’s fingers clenched, once, as if in reality he felt like he were meant to be holding Hisoka more tightly.  “I wish I could.”

“No you don’t.”

“No,” Illumi said, “I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Stick with me for the long haul and I promise to keep writing. Love to you all xo


End file.
